Every Day is Another Road
by deemarie
Summary: Magic tries to escape reality. Will she find out who she really wants to be? Helpful if you read my other two stories but not necessary. Reviews Welcome! Dare I write it? FINISHED
1. Default Chapter

Every Day is Another Road.

By Deemarie

Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies! I promise you I make no money off this. 

Author's note: Why hello, Newsies fans of the world!! Another story from me although no one asked for it. Oh, well. You'll get one anyway. Reviews of any kind would be appreciated.

Darlin' girl. Me big sister. Don't leave me! Come back. Come with us! Stay with us. We're waiting for you.

I woke up in a cold sweat, as usual. My family had done their usual dance in my sleep, begging me to die too. It's getting to the point where I don't want to sleep any more. Actually it has been to the point since I was about ten. That'd be about six years. Six years of only sleeping during the day because they come at night. That's really why I became a spy. Sure and I always hid longer and better than any other kid in my Irish village, but I needed to escape the nightmares. I haven't spent time awake in the day unless it was an emergency since then. No one even wondered why. Not even Spot. They just assumed my life's ambition was to be a birdie. That's why I really left. To find out who I was, not just some person who worked for Spot Conlin.

I crawled out of my hiding place in an alley somewhere in Boston. I shook the aches out of my muscles and went a-lookin' for some newsies. Maybe this is where I'll decide to stay.

Walking down the road I see an apple stand and decide to try for breakfast. Pacing quickly by I pretend to trip and fall right into the apple stand.

"Oh, sir! I'm so sorry! Honest, I am! Here, let me help," I bend over and scurry about picking up apples. As I was walking away I discovered that two of the apples had found their way into my pockets. I can't imagine how that could have happened.

I had turned down a small street when I became aware of someone falling into step beside me. 

"Thanks for the apple," said a male voice from up above me. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a tall, tow-headed boy munching on a shiny red apple. 

"Don't know what you're talking about." I said nervously, already planning an escape route. Looked like I could go into that alley and jump a wall.

"Well, if you ask me that was a good piece of pickpocketry. In fact, are you from Boston?"

I shook my head. No, I wasn't really from anywhere but a tiny house in a tiny village in a tiny county in Ireland. But I wasn't going to tell him that. 

"Got a place to stay tonight? Me and the boys will let ya! In fact you ever been a newsie?" He asked me. 

I guess he seemed nice enough. And I can run pretty fast if he's not. I might as well go along. So I shook my head again.

"Okay, I'm heading back to the lodging house right now. Hey what's your name? Mine's Swede because that's what I am. I came over when I was eight and then my parents kicked the bucket when I was nine.

Retreating into my wall of silence I shrugged. I don't think Magic will work and neither will the name Mam gave me.

"Oh, you're a quiet one, aren't ya? That's okay. I talk enough for the both of us. Maybe we'll call you Hush."

I shuddered at the thought of responding to Hush. It sounded too much like the hush puppies I sometimes had with my fish on Fridays because I'm Catholic. Or was anyway.

"Here we are. Home sweet home." Swede came to a stop outside a shabby brownstone house. 

I took a deep breath and walked inside. 


	2. Maybe here?

Author's Note: I own nothing. In fact, I'm so broke I wear my little sister's socks half the time.

"Sign in, sign in, sign in," came the singsong of an old lady sitting on a rocking chair and knitting. "Sign in, sign in. Oh, Swede. You're home early today. I thought you were heading across town to the 75th Street newsies?"

"I was going to, Granny, but I ran into this girl." Swede said while busily scratching in a notebook.

"Oh, dearie. You look just tuckered out," the old lady clucked at me. I knew she was looking at my dirty face, half red half brown hair, and ragged, greasy skirt.

"Hush—" he began.

"You young whippersnapper, don't tell me to hush! I'm seventy-two years old and deserve more respect than that." Granny drew herself up to her full height and looked very stern.

"No, no. Granny that's what I call her. I've know her for about two hours and she only spoke one sentence."

"Oh, well then Hush dearie. Sign in please." Granny sat back down and continued knitting. "Your first two days are free but after that it'll be fifteen cents a night. One meal included."

I walked over to the sign in book and gestured for Swede to come next to me. 

"What is it Hush? Something wrong?"

I shook my head no and carefully signed an X on the first empty line on the page. Then I handed the pen to him.

"Oh. You can't read? That's okay. We can teach you. We even got a guy upstairs who wanted to be a teacher before his old man kicked him out." Swede wrote some beside my X and headed into a hallway.

I shrugged and followed him. I guess I'll need to know how to read, after all I don't think I can be a birdie here.

Suddenly I heard the noise that had said home for years and looked up to see newsies fighting, gambling, smoking, and basically just being loud. 

"Hey boys. Look what the cat dragged in!" From the corner of the room a boy with a face that just screamed LEADER stood up.

"Hey you, Whiskey! This here's Hush. Can she join up with us?" Swede pushed me toward the boy.

"Sure, we could use a girl, otherwise people'll say we're prejudiced. Why don't you take her over to Mac and get her set up with her stuff." Whiskey didn't sound very interested as he started cutting into a bunk with his pocketknife.

Swede started towards a boy with mud colored hair and glasses. "You'll need to tell him your name so we know if a cops after you, your next of kin and how old you are."

Quietly, I looked up at him and said "Look my name's my own business. No coppers are after me."

"Okay. If you say so." He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender and turned to Mac; "This is Hush. She doesn't want people to know her name. Plus, could you teach her to read?"

Mac took out a notebook and pencil and suddenly looked very businesslike, "Can you tell me your next of kin please?"

"Might as well just put City of Boston for as long as I'm here." I looked down. I guess I could have said Spot or The Traveler but they might know them. They're so much in love, I don't even think they'll have noticed that I was missing if I hadn't told The Traveler I was leaving.

"Okay. ' Bout 92 percent of newsies are like that, ya know," he said seriously. "Now how old are ya?"

"I guess I'm about sixteen. Almost seventeen."

"All right, that's all I need to know."

I nodded and started to turn away when he said, "Whenever you want to read, that's fine with me. Just come find me."

These newsies were probably the friendliest I had come across lately. Definitely friendlier than Brooklyn is to new newsies. Whiskey hadn't beat me up or anything yet. 

I lay on the empty bunk Swede had told was mine and drifted off to sleep.


	3. The Past

Disclaimer: Don't own a thing. Don't sue Disney!!

I'm sitting at the table in my family's cottage. There's nothing to eat, as usual and Mam is trying to comfort Baby Paddy and little Jamie at the same time.

Then Pap comes in and swings Mam into a hug. "Guess what Katie love? I've got us tickets to America. We're going to America!"

"Why James Patrick Finnigan! Do you mean to say we're leaving Ireland? Our homeland?" Mam looks up at Pap with a disbelieving expression.

"Yes, Katie what's Ireland ever done for me and mine? Not a potato in my pot and four kiddies for us to feed." Pap looks sad for a minute.

Then I'm on board a ship rushing through the waves. And there's an important man talkin'. 'Tis the captain.

"And we lay to rest Patrick Finnigan. He is now with the Lord."

Mam screams out, "No! God, no! He's just a baby. Not even a year yet. No!"

"Please, Mam. Come to your bunk. We'll find you a cuppa, we will." Mary Brigid, my older sister says quietly.

Mam nods and allows my twelve-year-old sister to lead her away, sobbing quietly.

"Look at me Sister! Look at me!" It's about two weeks later and I'm supposed to be watching Jamie. I look up from my doll to see him climbing up the rail.

"Jamie, get down this instant!" I cry out and run to him. We have to keep an eye on that five-year-old at all times otherwise he'll be over the edge.

Shh. The captain is speakin' again. "James Finnigan goes to sleep in the waves. Lost may be his body to us, but his soul goes to God."

Then Mam is gone, dead of grief. Next was Pap and Mary Brigid, only a bit before New York. 

I'm looking into the eyes of my family, all of them and they're calling to me.

"Katie Rose. We miss you. Join us here. Don't grow older come back to being eight. Baby Paddy's cutting a tooth. Come with us."

Suddenly I'm dropped back in my body. I open my eyes slowly, see the rough wooden ceiling above me, and hear the snores of newsies all around me. I'm safe. Remember? I shake my head. I haven't felt really truly safe since the first few years in New York, when it was only Spot and me.

I met him on my first day in the States. I had heard some of the other passengers talking about what was going to become of me and I heard talk of an orphanage. So I ran and I hid behind some boxes on the docks of Brooklyn.

"Hey you. What're you hiding from?" A boy about my age with a slingshot came barreling through my hiding place.

"They say they're going to put me in an orphanage." I cried out with my thick Irish brogue.

He shook his head. "Naw, now that you're with me they can't do that."

I was a bit surprised by this boy's supreme confidence. "Oh, aye? So what am I to do?"

"Become a newsie, like me. We sell newspapers and someday I'll be the king." Even then Spot wanted to be a leader.

With those words Spot became my best friend, my true leader and new brother and I became Irish, for that's what he called me.

Then one day all that changed. I was eleven years old and I was called into the leader's office. His name was Smithy. 

"Irish, you know that once Spot get old enough he's going to be Brooklyn, don' you?" Smithy asked me.

I rolled my eyes. Of course, I knew that. Everyone knew that Dollar was only going to be leader until Spot got big enough to fight him. Except Dollar. Smithy had had to settle for second best with his successor.

"Well, I've noticed that you've got a bit of a gift for hiding and sneaking up on people." 

"Well, I always do win if we play hide and seek or bulls and newsies." I said proudly.

"Yes. Spot's got something he wants to ask you to do." Smithy sounded more serious than I'd ever heard him. "Go find him, he's swimming."

I shrugged and walked outside. Finding Spot on the docks he asked me to become his spy. I agreed and went off to Staten Island for years. 

I never spoke to Spot once. I talked to Roast Beef once every two or three months but that was it. And when it was over, when Spot threw Dollar out, I went home to Brooklyn. But I wasn't Irish any longer. I was Magic and Spot was different, harder. He beat me up and I took it. Then he fell in love with The Traveler and I was happy. I had hoped that he would become the Spot I became loyal to all those years ago again. But The Traveler disappointed him and then she disappeared and he became worse. After I broke her out of jail I left. I didn't know anyone anymore. And I didn't like being Magic. I want to be Irish again. And I want to be able to go to Manhattan and visit and let people know I exist!!

Maybe here in Boston I'll find Irish and be able to go home again. But for now I've got to go to sleep so I can sell papes tomorrow. 


	4. Settling Down

Author's Note: I do not own Newsies. Is that a surprise to anyone out there? I thought not.

I couldn't sleep. After tossing and turning for about an hour I slipped over to the door and crept downstairs. I sneaked past Granny's room and ended up outside on the steps. 

It's really hot out tonight and I can smell the stench of rotting garbage. I hate not having anything to do. It makes me think too much and I'm so sick of thinking. Maybe I should've tried to remember how to knit when I started to forget. 

Finally the stars began to fade and the sun rose. I heard the noise of newsies upstairs. In Brooklyn there isn't near this much noise and there's about twice the number of newsies. Some of the older newsies don't take too kindly to noise, specially after how much they've drank the night before.

"Hey Hush! How's you get down so quietly?" Swede is the first newsie out the door. "Didn't you sleep good? Do ya want breakfast? That's the only meal Granny serves."

I shake my head, remembering what Spot used to say about Klopmann's cooking. I try to get by on as little as possible because I always remember what my pap used to say, "Eat little when you got a lot and when you ain't got a lot you'll be used to it." Except I never remember having a lot. And being a birdie don't pay too good. I got used to eating dinner every day and a little supper when things got really good.

"Come on, Hush. It's included in the bed fee. And it's good, really! You should taste Granny's bread!" Swede spoke even more quickly than usual. "Plus you'll need your energy! You're selling with me!"

I shrugged and followed Swede inside to a cramped room with a large scarred wooden table. Granny sat at the head and was ladling out porridge and handing out hunks of bread.

I ate a few bites of porridge and then put my bread in my pocket for later. 

"Hey Hush! Why ain't you eating? Don't you like it?" Swede's voice was so loud that all thirty newsies and Granny started to stare.

I looked down and decided that maybe I needed to talk for this one. "Eat little when you got a lot and when you ain't got a lot you'll be used to it."

"Child, you'll certainly always have enough money." Granny said earnestly and all the newsies nodded. 

"You mean people wouldn't spot you two bits or so where you came from?" One of the littler newsies spoke up.

I shook my head. What was up with these Boston newsies? In Brooklyn somebody would sure spot you some money. Except that they usually had somewhere else to spend their money. They had to eat or support their drinking habits, or younger relatives, or gambling like The Traveler. Most people were lucky to make thirty or forty cents a day and keep enough of that to buy papes the next.

"Nobody had any money where I come from." I spoke shortly while stirring the porridge left in my bowl.

Swede shrugged his shoulders and walked out and I followed. I hadn't sold papers in a few years. I really hoped that I could remember how.

"Now look here Hush. All you have to do is make them want to buy papers from you. The headline's _Mayor Throws Charity Party_."

I grabbed a paper and walked over to a well-dressed man walking briskly.

"Sir, could you buy a pape for me, sir? My little brother's not so good sir." I trailed off and coughed weakly.

"Poor girl. Here's a dime for your paper." The businessman patted my head and walked on his way.

I looked over to where Swede was standing. I smiled to see his open mouth. He thought I couldn't move a pape when I used to sell with Spot, the guy who taught Jack Kelly everything he knew.

I looked up at him and said quietly, "I'm good."

He looked flabbergasted for a second or two and then he laughed and replied, "Yes, you are Hush. Yes, you are."

After a couple of weeks I got used to the Boston newsies. I even talked a little when I wasn't selling. However, I still only slept a couple of hours a night before the nightmares woke me up.

It was late July when I was eating breakfast in a new spot. Billy, one of the other newsies, had been picked up by the bulls and sent West on an orphan train; so his spot was open. The people around me were too loud so I moved. Speaking of moving I was wondering whether I'd better move on. Jacky Boy was always talking 'bout Santa Fe. Maybe I'd try there. 

Looking at one of the carvings sliced into the table I gasped. Among all the carvings on the table was a sign that I knew well. I had to know. It was a square with four dots in it, I've heard from someone that it was a supposed to be a die. It was next to some name but I couldn't read it you know. But I hoped that maybe someone else used that mark.

"Sure, that's a guy from Manhatten name and mark. There's a poker game down here he tries to catch every August. He stays with us. Nice guy, you'll like him. Racetrack Higgins is what it says."

I never met Race. I knew he left the city every August but I never cared to know where he went. His twin sister could've been my best friend if I'd stayed in New York. I think I'll stick around and meet him.

****

Author's Note: Okay, I'm asking for your help. Do you think I should develop the character of Swede more or devote more of my time to Racetrack?


	5. More surprises

Author's Note—Sorry it's so long between each update. I know it is no excuse but my school's one-act play competition is coming up, plus finals! In this chapter I've got a * by a menu item. See the end to find out why! Oooh, a mystery.

Disclaimer: Does anyone out there really think that I own Newsies? I mean, come on, really.

My fingers shook as I tried to light my cigarette. I'd made three and a half-hours of sleep tonight. There's got to be some way to calm down. It's not like my life is that bad. But then again, winter's coming and I've got nothing. 

Suddenly I heard someone coming. I smoothly leapt behind a trash bin by the steps and waited for the person to come out.

"Hush. I know you're out here." Mac's voice surprisingly came out of the boy. I'd half expected Swede, as he was the only one I'd ever really addressed a sentence to.

I slowly stood up and went forward closer to him. Who knew what a Boston newsie had in his mind? They certainly thought differently than Brooklyn newsies.

"I thought maybe I'd teach you how to read. Or start at least." Mac showed me that he had a slim book and slate in his hands.

I nodded, and sat in the light coming from the inside of the Lodging House. I'd never really needed to know before, but you can't expect me to get by on my waif-like looks much longer.

"A, B, C…" The rest of the night went by rather quickly as I tried to memorize the shapes of the alphabet.

"Ey, Hush! Time to get going! Poker game's this weekend and no one sells then! We gotta get some cash! You play poker, right?"

"A little," I said shortly. It was still worrying me that Racetrack could recognize me. 

"I love poker. But I'm really not very good at it. And you should see that Racetrack kid I was telling you about. He's the best there ever was." Swede was trying to jump a wall in the back alley as a short cut to the distribution center.

I shook my head, hiked up my skirt, and leaped until I could grab the top of the wall and pull myself over. I'm getting soft, I know I am. I can feel myself losing some of my skills daily. The Boston bulls just aren't as harsh.

"Hey Hush! Do you want dinner today?" Swede asked as he was counting his pocketful of coins. He blushed and added, "It's on me."

I thought for a second. I don't really know what I think of Swede paying for my food, but I didn't like to pass up free eats.

Finally I nodded and decided that I'd get the cheapest thing on the menu.

After we sat down at the 19th Street Diner we ordered. I ended up with the roast beef sandwich with extra gravy and Swede got the most expensive thing on the menu, roast chicken with all the trimmings*.

"Hush, I think we sell good together. And I want to thank you for eating with me. See, it's my birthday. My eighteenth." Swede said between shoveling in bites of food. 

I nodded and continued eating. I couldn't decide whether to save half my sandwich or one third of it.

"Golly, Hush. Do you think it'd kill you to have a conversation with me? We've spent every day together for a while and I can count on one hand the number of times you've talked."

I thought for a little bit and decided that, as it was Swede's birthday, I could talk for a while. No one seemed to understand my silence. It wasn't that I was rude, but that I just didn't need to talk unless I had something to say. And it had been months since I had something to say.

"Well, Swede. Did you have anything in particular that you wanted to talk about?"

Flabbergasted, Swede stared at me. Finally he shook himself out of it and said, "Where do you come from?"

"Ireland first and then... Well, I can't tell you." I shot back without a breath.

"So you're an immigrant too. What happened to your family?" Swede said eagerly.

"They died."

Things went on in this vein for a while. It shook me up pretty badly, though, talking that much.

Finally Swede paid for our meal and we left, walking through the rain that had started to get to the Lodging House. After a ten minute walk we entered to a state of great excitement.

"Swede, get over here!" Whiskey, the leader, called from the center of the bunkroom. "And bring your shadow. Introduce her to Race and his sister!"

I froze behind Swede. The Traveler was here. What did that mean for me? She wouldn't drag me back, she wasn't that type of person. But what if Spot was here too? He was definitely that type of person.

"Race, how's it going?" Swede yelled as he and Racetrack spit shook. "This is Hush. She don't talk much."

"Nice to meet cha. My sister The Traveler (mouthful ain't it?) is around here somewhere." Racetrack smiled at me. 

"Did I hear my name in vain?" I heard an extremely familiar voice join the conversation and saw a skinny, black-haired girl get up from where she was sitting against the wall. The Traveler. Or Anna-Maria Higgins, depending on how much you knew about her. Or even Tee, as called her. I called her Annie, meself. She had more names than she had changes of clothes.

Suddenly I saw Annie's eyes widen and her hand flashed out and grabbed me by the sleeve.

"Magic! So this is where you've been hiding out!" Her voice rose above the crowd and the entire group turned to stare.

"Magic? That's your name?" Swede blurted out, looking ashen.

"What's she talking about Hush?"

"Anna-Maria Higgins, what are you talking about? You said you never made it to Boston." Racetrack looked confused.

I took a deep breath and decided that I probably had something to say here. Maybe I'd be loud enough.

"They called me Magic in Brooklyn. I knew The Traveler there." There, that was probably enough, right?

"Still the same old Magic. Boys, excuse us for a few minutes okay?" Magic exercised her old control of a crowd. "Race, stop sputtering. I'll explain it to you later, okay?"

I nodded and lead the way to the bathroom down the hall that I used, knowing that Magic wanted somewhere private to talk.

"Spot's not the same without you." No introduction, nothing. Annie just made a statement and looked at me.

I smiled a little, "He's got you. That should be enough trouble for any man."

"Oh, he loves me all right. But I don't think he ever realized how much his identity is tied up with you."

"He'll get over it." I said this shortly, wishing for the conversation to be over.

"No. No, he won't." Annie said in a matter of fact tone.

"And how do you know this, Annie?" I shook my head. "I'm not going back unless I have something more for me there than that. Not that you and Spot aren't enough, but I need a life too."

"I know this because he acts like I did when Race and I got seperated." Annie stood up and went back into the bunkroom.

Chicken was really more expensive than beef at this time period. Did anyone solve the mystery? 

I decided to write a little note to all my reviewers because I know I love it when they do that for me. Hey look my name in type!! It's not even in my story! Yes!

Fastdancr: Thank you so much for reviewing. And not just this story so far, but all my stories. Your reviews always cheer me right up!

Spotted One: Thanks for your suggestion about using both Swede and Race. I think I'm going to try to do that in subsequent chapters. Thanks for all your reviews of my stories!

Chronicles Bailey: I tried to put some Race in this chapter for you, but the muse wasn't around. Stay tuned for later developments!

lildreamer99: Well, look out. Race is in Boston, now. He'll become a bigger part, I promise.

Rhapsody: I started to develop Swede in this chapter. I think he's going to gain a personality soon. (I can only hope, right?)

Glimmer: Thank you so much for reviewing. You made me a happy Newsies fan.

SparksdaNewsie: I love your name, by the way. Hope you like the rest of the story.


	6. Pax

Disclaimer: Hey wait. I don't need a disclaimer! I own Newsies!! (Disney, if you're reading this I'm just joking okay? Giggles nervously)

Author's Note: I'm very sorry that it took me so long to post this. I only hope I haven't lost all of your support. And Fastdancr? Don't give up on our joint story!

I think for a couple of seconds. I've been away from Brooklyn for months. But I left a lot in New York that I've got to learn about. Maybe I'll just forget it all, stay out here, and play poker. 

Finally I come to a decision. I'm going into the bunkroom to talk to Annie. I need to see what is happening in my old life.

"Hey Annie?" I don't want to say anymore and hope that she'll be able to understand what I want to get at. No one's ever really been able to do more than hazard a guess at what I want to say, but I'm always hoping.

She looked up from the cards she was shuffling and sighed. "Magic what do you want to say? C'mon just once talk for the heck of it." She looked down again and flipped the deck of cards into her lap. "Spot says you used to talk a lot. Well, not really a lot. But enough. At least before you left for Staten Island."

I finally manage to stutter out, "How's Brooklyn?"

A smile slowly came across her face. "It's, well. You know there's no place in the world like Brooklyn. You remember Pegs?"

I nodded. Pegs was one of the oldest newsies.

"He met a girl, decided to get married and got a job waiting in a restaurant in Manhattan."

I shook my head in disbelief. I couldn't believe it.

"And another thing? Jack Kelly's ex-girl, Sarah? Well, she got herself into a little trouble with Morris Delancey. They're married and they had themselves an _early_ baby. About three months early. And get this! She named it Frances. You know, like Francis Sullivan?"

I smile wickedly, "Is it his?"

"Nah, Sarah broke up with Jack a week after the strike. We figure she finally got what she was missing."

About an hour passed very quickly as we gossiped and laughed. Well, she gossiped and I laughed.

"Hey. Hush. The Traveler." Swede stuck his head in and looked at Annie, "They're calling for you for a warm-up game."

Annie got up and started out the door and I began to follow. 

"Wait, Hush," Swede said, grabbing at my arm.

I turn and look at him expectantly. He seems pretty serious about something, which is pretty unusual.

"Look, I just want you to know. Well, I'm angry, okay? We hang out together for a while and I thought we were pretty good friends." He paused and looked at me, as if he wanted me to say something. 

I just couldn't think of anything to say. What do people want from me? Why can't they just accept that I don't like to talk?

"And than I find out that you haven't told me anything. You know all sorts of people and your name is Magic. And you know my real name, my favorite color, how my parents died." He turns away and tries to secretly wipe away the tears from his eyes. "Everything. I told you everything. And you told me nothing."

Swede looked at me. I looked down. I don't trust him. And I can't help it. 

"I just don't get you." He turned and walked out of the room.

I lay down on a bunk and started thinking. I've only met two people since I was eight that I actually trusted. Spot and The Traveler. Even they don't understand me, but I've trusted them since the first sentence they spoke to me. And I'm sorry that Swede wants more from me, but I can't settle for anything less. We can be friends, but not close.

I try to think about why I don't trust Swede and how I can make myself trust him. After about an hour I finally figure it out. Swede's had it easy. I know that a newsie's life is hard no matter what, but Boston just isn't as tough as New York and Brooklyn. I've seen cops here turn blind eyes to what would mean a year at the Refuge in Brooklyn. They are soft. And none of the Boston newsies are someone I'd want at my back. Not even Whiskey or Swede. I mean, Swede can't even leap a wall. 

While I'm still thinking I hear a rap at the door. Then I see a dark haired head poke in the door.

"Hey, Magic. I'm Race, remember? My sister sent me in here because she says I don't need to play the warm-up round. I was wondering if you could show me around. You see, I've never really been around Boston. Usually I go from the railroad to the house and never leave."

I shrug and head out the door. Race could be good company, who knows? 

I think it is hours later that I finally surface. I've never laughed so long in my life. I remembered the way to the tracks and Race has made so many jokes about his luck and the people around us that I think he could be on the stage.

"Hey Magic? Do you know how they say people look like their dogs? Do you think that lady looks like her horse?" I look where Race is pointing and see a long faced lady with a pair of opera glasses peering at the track.

Maybe the best thing about today so far is that Race hasn't pressured me to talk. He just talked at me and made up my responses, if necessary. But I talked too. More than I've talked in a long time. 

"Damn!" I look up to see Race squinting at his pocket watch in the twilight. "I'm late for the poker game!"

I quickly start to walk towards the lodging house, but it's a ways away and it is actually dark by the time we get there.

Race pauses in the pool of light cast by a street lamp. "Magic, I was wondering what you were going to do now? What do you think about coming back to New York? Spot and Anna-Maria miss you. And…and I think I'd miss you too, after today."

He took a deep breath and leaned. He lightly brushed my lips with his and started towards the lodging house.

I touch my lips with my hand. My very first kiss. Do I trust that boy? Will he take away the nightmares? Do I feel for him like Annie does for Spot? Suddenly I run and slip my hand into Race's. 

He had a lighted a cigar and he smiled and threw it on the ground. "C'mon Magic, let's go inside."

I let him walk ahead a bit before I say, "Irish."

"What dearie?" Race looks confused and I don't blame him.

"That's my name. Irish." Then I look down and take a deep breath. "Or Katie Rose." 

Spotted One: Well, Alice this is the end of Wonderland right now. Thanks for all your support on my stories so far.

Raeghann: Whew, I think I spelled that right. Thanks for your review and just remember the next time you eat beef that it used to be really cheap.

Fastdancr: Thanks for reviewing. I hope I talk (e-mail whatever) to you soon. 


End file.
